


Uninvited Guest

by thisstarvingartist



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Canon Divergence - Sometime during season 1 I guess, Derek is a creeper wolf, Don't shake the soda, I don't know if this should be teen and up or not, Kissing, M/M, Making Out, Neck massages, Scott is strangely responsible these days, Scott will never sleep on his bed again, So it is just in case, Stiles is stressed, This should totally have happened in season 1, stressed!Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-27
Updated: 2013-06-27
Packaged: 2017-12-16 09:33:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/860615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisstarvingartist/pseuds/thisstarvingartist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek had, in fact, noticed that Stiles was only wearing a towel in the bathroom. He had tried not to let himself become too aware of that fact while trying to force the location of the other one out of him, but eventually the situation had become just too awkward to ignore and he had left, opting to remain in Scott’s room and await the new werewolf’s arrival.</p>
<p>This proved to begin an unexpected chain of events.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Uninvited Guest

**Author's Note:**

> This was actually my first Sterek fanfic, back before I finished season 1 and learned new things about the characters (So they might be a little OOC, I apologize). But there's making out at the end, so I hope you like it!

It was seven-thirty on a Thursday night and Stiles Stilinski was very, very bored.

“Scott, hurry up in there man!” Stiles whined, flopping on his best friend’s bed boredly and sending both of their textbooks flying off of the mattress with a resounding thud.

_Thump!_

“What was that?” Scott called from the kitchen.

“Nothing!” Stiles shouted back, hurriedly picking up the books and placing them back onto the bed carefully, hoping that Scott wouldn’t notice that pages 127 through 142 were now bent and slightly ripped on the edges. Scott returned to the bedroom, his arms full of snacks prepared for the late night ahead of them.

“Sweet, you made popcorn!” Stiles said, reaching out to grab a fistful.

“Hold on, man! Help me with this first, would you?” Scott asked. Stiles relented, grabbing the sodas and a few bags of chips.

“I can’t believe you forgot to work on our economics project while I was away,” Scott moaned, throwing the rest of the food onto the floor.

“Well you’re the one who had to go on vacation for a whole month!” Stiles complained, rooting through the bags for something sweet. “And to Florida, no less!”

“Stiles, I went to visit my sick grandmother,” Scott reminded him, flipping open his textbook. “Hey, what happened to my book?”

“Why would I know?” Stiles asked innocently, picking up a soda and snapping open the tab. Cherry Lime soda sprayed all over Stiles’ body, covering him in the sticky, tangy soft drink. Scott threw himself out of the way just before the spray hit him, using his textbook to catch the few stray drops that nearly landed on his face.

“Nice going, Stiles!” Scott laughed as Stiles wiped the still fizzing liquid off of his face, making a disgusted face.

“Come on man,” Stiles groaned, shaking his soaked hand. “Why didn’t you tell me you shook my drink?”

“I didn’t shake it, I dropped it,” Scott told him, standing up. “And it serves you right for forgetting our economics project. I’ll go get you some towels.”

“I’ll get them myself,” Stiles said, standing up. “Just start working on it, would you?”

Scott watched Stiles waddle out of the bedroom dripping soda, trying not to giggle. The sound of breaking branches and huffing made Scott’s wolf senses perk, and he turned around to find Allison hanging on the window of his room.

“Allison! What are you doing?” Scott whispered, but he smiled before planting a kiss on her beautiful forehead.

“I knew you were getting back from Florida today,” She whispered back. “I wanted to see you.” Scott smiled at her.

“Are you going to invite me in?” Allison asked.

“No, I can’t,” Scott told her. He glanced back at the door, then looked back down at his sexy, amazing girlfriend. “How about we go to your place?”

Allison smiled. “All right,” She agreed. “Meet me in the driveway.”

“I’m already there,” Scott said, giving her another kiss before hurrying out of his bedroom and down the stairs. The front door shut fairly quietly and Scott and Allison disappeared, leaving Stiles alone in the house with a blue eyed werewolf watching from the brush.

 

\--

 

Oblivious to the fact that he was now alone in the house, Stiles stood in the bathroom, staring irritably at his sticky, slowly drying clothing.

“Hey Scott, I’m gonna take a shower, okay?” Stiles shouted. He ignored the lack of a response and turned on the shower, stripping off his damp sweatshirt, jeans, and underwear. He hopped into the shower, the scalding water shocking his skin, but pleasantly. He scrubbed off the soda residue slowly, letting the water release the tense muscles in his shoulders. When had he gotten so stressed that his back knotted? He sighed, letting go of the day’s pressures and just standing in the warm water.

A sudden, unexpected thump came from Scott’s room.

Stiles’ eyes shot open, and he peeked nervously out from behind the shower curtain.

“Hello?” He called tentatively, receiving no response. “Scott?”

His call was met by silence, and now unnerved once more, Stiles removed himself from the shower and grabbed one of the new, fluffy white towels off of the rack and started drying himself off. He froze as the sound of the bathroom door slowly creaking open reached his ears, and as slowly as possible, Stiles turned to meet the invader.

“Scott?” Derek growled, his fiercely glowing blue eyes slicing through Stiles like a knife in warm butter.

“Oh good god!” Stiles shrieked, slipping a few steps backwards, relieved that he’d just finished wrapping himself in the towel. Derek snapped out of his half-wolf state and stood up straight, his thick, muscled torso almost taking up the doorframe.

“What the hell are you doing here, kid?” Derek demanded, staring at him unblinkingly, seemingly unfazed by the fact that Stiles was almost totally naked.

“Panicking, what are you doing?” Stiles squeaked. He coughed, trying to stop his voice from cracking. “What do you want from me? Scott is in his room.”

“No he isn’t. Where is he?” Derek growled, his eyes sparking.

“Okay, okay, then I don’t know where he is!” Stiles insisted, his voice going up again. Derek was a tall man, on the verge of broad but not overly thick, with a naturally pale complexion and dark, luscious hair. He had a square jaw and the kind of eyebrows that, if furrowed in the exact way they currently were, could petrify any able-bodied human out of pure fear. He also seemed incapable of finding a shirt that didn’t emphasize his pecks, or so it seemed to Stiles.

On the opposite side of the male spectrum, Stiles was not exactly scrawny, but at the same time too thin to be considered pudgy, with innocent brown eyes and a nose that he liked to think made the girls at school go weak at the knees. He was nowhere near fearsome, although standing in that bathroom with an aggravated werewolf staring him down, he found himself to be quite fear _ful_.

After a long, tense silence, Derek snorted, turning and storming out of the bathroom and leaving the terrified teenager alone, slamming the door on his way out.

“Would you like to leave a message?” Stiles shouted. Upon receiving no response, Stiles waited in silence for several more minutes before he decided, with a relieved sigh, that Derek was gone. He glanced down at his clothes; the bits that were half dry glistened with the stickiness of the fruity drink, and having no alternative, Stiles walked out of the bathroom in just the towel. Unfortunately for him, Derek had not left as he had assumed.

 

\--

 

Derek had, in fact, noticed that Stiles was only wearing a towel in the bathroom. He had tried not to let himself become too aware of that fact while trying to force the location of the other one out of him, but eventually the situation had become just too awkward to ignore and he had left, opting to remain in Scott’s room and await the new werewolf’s arrival.

This proved to begin an unexpected chain of events.

 

\--

 

“Holy crap, why are you still here?” Stiles squealed as he entered the bedroom again. Derek stood up, his intimidating height advantage working well enough to force Stiles to take a step back.

“I need to talk to Scott,” Derek snarled.

“Well obviously he’s not here,” Stiles said, pulling Scott’s dresser drawer open and searching hurriedly for a pair of jeans. “He probably ran off to find Allison or something.”

He heard from his crouched position the irritated growling of the werewolf, and his nerves already working overtime he grabbed the first pair of pants he could find--unfortunately turning out to be a pair of Snoopy-and-Woodstock sweatpants--and stood back up, facing his potential murderer.

“Listen, I get why you’re frustrated,” Stiles told him, gripping the pajama bottoms so tightly his knuckles turned white. “He does this to me all the time. But I’ll be sure to let him know you came for a visit and I guarantee that he’ll stop by your place first thing after school tomorrow. Does that sound like a plan?” Derek looked down at Stiles’ tightly clenched fists, raising an eyebrow.

“Are you going to put those on, or are they for self defense?” Derek asked. For a long moment, Stiles didn’t realize that Derek was joking. When it dawned on him, he laughed almost hysterically, quickly pulling on the pants.

“Self defense, ha, that’s very funny Derek,” Stiles stumbled over his words, coughing multiple times. “But if you don’t mind, I really have a project to work on.” Stiles dropped the towel, sneaking around Derek’s large biceps and picking his pencil and textbook up with shaking hands.

“I can hear your heart racing,” Derek growled from behind him, and Stiles’ hand twitched so violently that he dropped his pencil, falling to his knees and crawling after it as it rolled under Scott’s desk.

“Well maybe that’s because a bloodthirsty werewolf is standing over me, possibly getting ready to tear my limbs off if Scott doesn’t get back here in the next five minutes,” Stiles stuttered, fumbling for the pencil. “But maybe it’s just the fact that my economics partner skipped out on me to make out with his girlfriend, _again_.” He finally got a grip on the pencil, going to stand up, but instead only managing to slam his head off of the underside of the desk.

“Ouch! Damn it!”

Derek didn’t speak throughout Stiles’ frustrated and paranoid monologue, and simply watched as he clumsily smacked his head on the desk loudly, causing the whole table to shake. He stared at Stiles’ back, arched from shock and stress. Derek waited for Stiles to struggle out from underneath the table and sit heavily on the edge of the bed, snapping his textbook open to a random page and pretending to read it. He glanced up at Derek after several minutes.

“Do you know anything about economics?”

Derek just glared at him.

“…So, no? Okay then, I’ll just do this whole project myself then,” Stiles sniffed, rubbing his neck uncomfortably.

“You have a pinched nerve.” Derek told him flatly. Stiles looked up at him and made a face.

“You don’t say, Sport? Well I guess I should have that checked out by a doctor as soon as--” Stiles cut himself off with a panicked cry when Derek advanced on him, jumping to his feet as Derek sat on the bed to what had been his left.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Stiles squeaked. Derek glared at him, then pointed beside him.

“Sit.” Derek told him. Very, very afraid, Stiles slowly took the seat beside the werewolf, not peeling his eyes away from him for a moment.

“Turn around,” Derek said.

“What?”

“I said. Turn. Around.” Stiles watched in awe as Derek’s pale blue eyes burst into a flame of shimmering sapphire blue, unlike any color he had ever seen before. Entranced by his eyes, Stiles did his bidding and turned away to face the wall, Derek at his back. Wordlessly, Derek laid his strong hands onto Stiles’ spindly shoulders and began massaging them.

“Oh,” Stiles let out a moan as Derek’s skilled fingers pressed and twisted every knot and tie back to its rightful place, manipulating his skin to sooth his aches as if he’d done so all his life. “Oooh.”

“Stop that,” Derek growled, pressing harder on Stiles’ back. Although intending to cause a minor shock of pain, the movement only pinched a nerve in a way that Stiles found unexpectedly pleasurable.

“ _Ohhh_ ,” Stiles whined, unconsciously leaning closer to Derek’s strong, powerful body. Instantly Stiles found himself face down on the floor, Derek’s hand pressed firmly against the back of his neck.

“Don’t make that sound,” Derek hissed. Stiles nodded violently, both afraid for his life and disoriented by the sudden change of atmosphere. Derek stood, allowing Stiles to sit up, his head spinning.

“Ouch, I think you brought my headache back,” Stiles mumbled, rubbing his temples and sitting on the bed again.

“When will Scott return?” Derek asked, facing away from him. Stiles found himself suddenly cold without Derek’s presence, and shivered.

“I don’t know, somewhere from five minutes to a few hours, depending on how much Allison missed him,” Stiles said, rubbing his head. “Thanks for the help, by the way.”

“Lay down.” Derek said. Stiles looked up at him, shocked. He looked back at the bed, then up at Derek, who was still facing away from him. Slowly, uncertainly, Stiles laid back on the bed, his legs bowed outwards nervously.

“Okay,” Stiles said after a long moment. Derek looked down at him, widened his eyes, and looked away again.

“I meant for your headache, because you hit your head on the desk,” Derek said. Stiles flushed.

“What, did you think I thought something else, or something?” Stiles asked, laughing loudly and awkwardly. “This is just, you know, how I lay. You know, on my back with my legs spread out. It’s just comfortable.” Stiles coughed awkwardly, slowly crossing his legs. “I wasn’t being sexual or anything. I mean, I totally like girls and stuff.” He watched suspiciously as Derek covered his mouth, rubbing his cheeks thoughtfully until the hint of a smile escaped from behind his mask of indifference.

“Hold on, are you laughing at me?” Stiles asked incredulously. “Seriously? Come on, I mean it isn’t like I seriously thought you would… I mean you’re not even that hot or anything--” Stiles yelped again as Derek was suddenly on top of him, his face dangerously close to Stiles’, his eyes sparking furiously.

“You’re lying,” Derek growled. “I can hear your heartbeat. I hate when people lie to me.”

“You don’t say?” Stiles squeaked, shifting fearfully underneath Derek’s strong, heavy body. Suddenly, Derek shook his head, the fury in his eyes fading. He blinked dubiously, sniffing the air.

“What?” Stiles asked. “Do you smell Scott or something?” Wordlessly, Derek sniffed the air, closer and closer to Stiles’ face, until his nose was almost buried into his neck. He took a deep breath of air and breathed out, enjoying the smell. He was greeted with a whimper from Stiles, which he recognized not as one of terror, but… pleasure.

“What’s that smell?” Derek asked, looking darkly into Stiles’ deep brown eyes.

“I don’t know, all I smell is Cherry Soda and Scott’s mom’s shampoo, but I swear to God I didn’t use it I just sniffed it.”

“Shut up,” Derek hissed in Stiles’ ear, rewarded by another quiet, unintentional whine. Derek smiled to himself, the smell almost intoxicating him.

Slowly moving his head up and down Stiles’ neck, he tried to identify the smell.

“It smells like sweet, and bread.” Derek whispered.

“Bread? That’s crazy. I don’t bake bread when I’m bored, come on. Baking is such a girly--” Derek’s face was almost touching Stiles’, their noses barely a hairs length apart.

“Move your leg,” Derek growled. Quickly, Stiles uncrossed his legs and let Derek hover above him, his hands resting on his neck.

“Okay, so I like baking,” Stiles admitted. “I made banana nut bed before I came over, I mean bananda nat bead, I mean bandana but red…” Stiles gave up trying to say the sentence as Derek’s soft, sweet lips pressed against his, sucking his mouth open until he allowed the werewolf access, their saliva mixing as Derek’s fingers ran through Stiles’ cropped hair. Stiles fingers curled in the sheets as they kissed, until he let out a moan and thrust his pelvis against Derek’s. Derek stopped the kiss, and laughed loudly.

“That isn’t going to do much in this position, kid,” Derek pointed out, sitting up. Stiles scrambled up to a sitting position, half put out and still slightly turned on.

“Well you know I’m a little new to this sort of thing, if you didn’t exactly notice,” Stiles defended himself, licking his lips fiercely. “I’m not used to werewolf throwing themselves on top of me in my best friend’s bedroom! And my name is not ‘kid’.”

“I know your name, kid,” Derek said, standing up.

“Liar,” Stiles hissed. Derek was suddenly back on top of him, one fist holding onto the scruff of Stiles’ neck and the other ready to punch him in the head.

“I don’t like being called a liar,” Derek snarled. “I’m not one.” Stiles took advantage of their proximity and grabbed Derek’s belt loops, falling backwards and dragging the surprised looking werewolf down with him.

“Then prove it,” Stiles whispered into Derek’s ear, licking the edge of it cleverly. “Say my name.”

Derek slammed Stiles onto the bed, his eyes alight with half-moon fire.

“Stiles,” Derek hissed, and bit his lower lip. Stiles opened his mouth obediently, kissing back with a fierce determination not to make a wrong move. He ran his fingers across Derek’s neck, down his torso and pulled the buttons of his shirt apart daringly. He groaned again as Derek touched his sides, and unexpectedly Derek’s pelvis thrust downward, into Stiles’. Stiles burst into a fit of laughter.

“That isn’t going to do much in this position, kid,” he reminded Derek.

“Just shut up and kiss me,” Derek demanded. Stiles complied immediately.


End file.
